Page 60 of Knox

That made one of us.

“Thanks.” I took a sip. Perfect. Black, strong, hot enough to burn. “You didn’t have to make me coffee and pack me snacks.”

“The snacks are for both of us, and I wanted to.” Sloane climbed into the passenger seat looking steadier than she must’ve felt, given our mission. “It’s a two-hour drive to Raleigh. We’ll need sustenance.”

I started the Jeep and pulled out of the driveway. The morning was cool. Perfect hiking weather. Perfect for tourists who had no idea a predator might be watching them, waiting for the right moment.

“I can’t stop thinking about Walter Lehman,” Sloane said as we crossed the bridge off the island.

“The rope?”

“The rope. The property. The way he offered to help you search and seemed so anxious when we saw him at the store.” She shook her head. “That’s all red flags, right?”

“I don’t know.” I glanced in her direction, wishing I had answers. “But I agree. I don’t like how convenient it all is.”

“Is it possible he’s guilty and trying to get close to you?” she asked. “You told him you’re investigating, so if he pretends to help, he can actively lead you away from any evidence, or at least keep tabs on you, so he knows if you get too close.”

I squeezed her hand on the shifter as I merged onto the highway. “I agree that we need to be very careful around Walter Lehman.”

She looked through her window, processing. Long minutes passed before she came back to me. “So what’s our approach today?” She pulled out a notebook and pen. She’d been making lists over breakfast. “What do we ask Mrs. Lake?”

“I think we do our best to keep it simple. She’s been through hell.” I merged onto Highway 12, the familiar road stretching ahead of us. “We ask about Sarah’s trip to the island. Who she talked to, where she went, if she mentioned meeting anyone. Anything that stuck in her mind. Moms have that sixth sense. We’ll see if anything about her last conversations with her daughter has stuck with her negatively.”

Sloane made notes, her handwriting neat and precise. “What if she asks why we’re looking into this? Nash Sullivan’s the sheriff. Why are two random people investigating her daughter’s disappearance?”

“We should tell her the truth. My mother may have been searching for her daughter before she died. I’m trying to finish what she started. And that you were almost taken by someone we suspect might be the same person who took Sarah.”

Sloane looked up from her notebook. “You think knowing I was almost a victim will make her more willing to talk?”

“I think it’ll help her understand we’re not just playing detective. We have a stake in this. A personal reason to want his capture.” I glanced at her, saw the shadows under her eyes that makeup couldn’t quite hide. “You okay with that? With sharing what happened to you?”

“If it helps find answers for Sarah’s family, absolutely.” Sloane set the notebook aside and reached for the bag of snacks. “Want some trail mix? Or I’ve got granola bars, apple slices, and string cheese.”

“You packed for a week-long expedition.”

“I like to be prepared.” She pulled out a granola bar and unwrapped it, breaking off half and offering it to me. “Besides, we might need fuel if we’re going to be playing boyfriend and girlfriend all day.”

The casual mention of our cover story made my hands tighten on the wheel. “About that. We should probably get our story straight. How we met, how long we’ve been together, that kind of thing.”

“We met at your mother’s shop,” Sloane said easily. “I’d been going there for a couple years, so that part is true. We reconnected after she passed, bonded over our shared grief. Started spending time together. Things progressed naturally.”

“How naturally?”

“Naturally enough that we’re exclusive but haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet.” Sloane’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if she was discussing a business proposal instead of a fake relationship. “We’re still figuring things out, seeing where it goes. That gives us flexibility if people ask uncomfortable questions.”

I had to admire her strategic thinking. “And the night of the attack?”

“You were helping Maggie with catering. Heard me scream, saved my life, and that cemented things between us. We’ve been inseparable since.” Sloane took a bite of her granola bar. “It’s mostly the truth, which makes it easier to remember.”

“Mostly.” I reached across the console and took her hand, the gesture becoming automatic. “We should probably keep practicing this. Make sure it looks natural.”

Sloane’s fingers curled around mine, warm and soft. “Like this?”

“Yeah.” I brought our joined hands to rest on my thigh, trying to ignore how right it felt.

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, hands linked, the ocean giving way to marshland and then pine forests as we headed inland. Sloane fed me pieces of granola bar and apple slices, and I told her about the time my mother and I had driven this same route to visit her best friend in Charlotte, only to get lost and end up in the wrong city entirely.

“She never could navigate worth a damn,” I said, smiling at the memory. “Refused to use GPS because she said it took the adventure out of traveling. We ended up in Greensboro at two in the morning, and she just laughed and said we’d have a better story this way.”